


The Raven’s Song

by Abilane_of_Yon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Minor Character Death, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 16:56:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17605244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abilane_of_Yon/pseuds/Abilane_of_Yon
Summary: Hermione Granger is a witch who understands the balance between dark and light.  In order to keep her family alive through the war she has to rely on magic as old as the earth itself.





	The Raven’s Song

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! I haven’t actually written anything for the HP fandom in a very long time, and when this thought popped in my head I had to write it down. Told using a version of a magpie counting poem. The timeline is a little fudged in this version. Albus Dumbledore still died in June of 1997, but in order for this story to make sense I had to push everything else back. 
> 
> I attempted to write this without any dialogue, and I feel like I was successful in telling a story where my characters don’t talk. I hope you enjoy it!

One for sorrow  
Two for mirth  
Three for a wedding  
Four for a birth  
Five for joy  
Six for cold  
Seven for sorrow  
Eight for a secret never to be told   
Nine for drawing a final breath   
Ten for death 

 

Hermione Granger was the brightest witch of her age. She knew her magic like the back of her hand, the way it curled around her when she called for it. Like diving into a familiar lake. She also knew of the old ways. The ways that bled into the Muggle world like sand through a sieve. Subtle ways the witches and wizards that lived amongst them could get away with everyday bits of magic. When she saw that single raven the day Dumbledore died, she knew what it meant, knew it was more reliable than Trewlaney’s predictions. She knew it because it was in the stories her grandmother used to tell her. A single raven spelt sorrow for those around it. She had seen one the day her grandmother died. It had been there the day Cedric Diggory was murdered. She knew when she caught sight of that single raven in the tree by the lake that something bad was going to happen tonight. She just didn’t know who it would strike. When she was called out of her bed to help defend the castle, she knew then. Knew it would be a member of the Order as well as she knew her magic. She prayed to any god that would listen that it wasn’t going to be the red headed wizard standing beside her.

She couldn’t decide if loosing Dumbledore was better or worse.

——————————————————————————————————————————  
The week after Dumbledore’s funeral found Hermione nursing a glass of stolen fire whisky while her friends joked. She was cuddled against Fred’s side while he explained what their newest product would do, how it could help them win this war. Hermione could see the irony that children’s toys would be used as weapons. She had never wanted to become a soldier. She wanted to heal people. When Madam Pomfrey offered her tutoring in her fourth year, an extra class to replace divination on her own time, she took it. 

This made her invaluable to her friends, a key part they were missing in this war. She was their medic, made even more valuable by her ability to brew potions from next to nothing. She still remembered her grandmother’s lessons, the way she would have her gather up herbs from the woods behind her house. Teaching her lessons for when she was older. Her grandmother didn’t have the same magic Hermione had, after all, Hermione was the first witch in her family for generations. Still, her grandmother had her own brand of magic to her name. Her magic wasn’t expressed in wand movement or words. Her magic was a brand older than that, told in knot tying and water bathed in moonlight. It was something more primal than the smooth movements Hermione used, something blessed by Hecate herself. A magic Hermione grew up using, before she realized she was was also blessed by Hecate herself. 

As her friends laughed, Hermione noted the call of two ravens by the window. It had begun.  
——————————————————————————————————————————  
There were three different types of magic. Light magic, which most of Hogwarts students learned. Dark magic, not dark because it was evil, but dark in the way it was performed. Grey magic, a magic where you flitted in the area between the other two. This is where Hermione’s magic resided. The day she and Fred were married she could feel that same energy. It was a small ceremony under the full moon. After all, that is the only way for a grey witch to marry before she goes off to battle. As they stood together hands clasped, waiting for Luna to finish the blessings upon their wedding cord she thought of what brought them here. It was two weeks before Bill and Fleur were supposed to wed, and she knew full well Molly would have a conniption when they came back in their moon blessed robes. She knew full well Molly didn’t approve of her magic, knew most of the Order didn’t. Grey magic was just as bad as dark magic to most of them. She was the outsider, the muggle born with a grandmother who taught her how to walk between the lines. After all, not all grey magic required you to use your own powers. You called upon nature, upon the moon, upon Hecate herself to bless what you set out to do. This was the power Luna was calling upon now, it was the power Hermione and Fred would call upon to bless their union, this is the power Hermione would call on to keep them safe. 

Hermione had spent the last week under the cover of darkness braiding the cord that Luna was using to fasten them to the other. Most of the ceremonies she had attended as a child, the bride and groom had used three different colored cords to bless their union. Hermione had used all thirteen. She had poured her blood, her sweat, and her tears into every inch of the thirteen cords binding them together. She had gathered the ingredients to dye the cords. She had spent hours over a boiling cauldron to get the colors exactly right. She had woven them together, pulling them as tight as she could. She knew there was no room for errors on this one. She knew if she wanted the gods to bless this union as much as she wanted them to she had to put real sacrifice into it. She had to be the one to bind the rough cords to their magic, draining her powers down to nothing until their union was complete.

Of course, even true sacrifice like that is never completely rewarded. The gods must have their fun as well. When Hermione added in the green cord she prayed for good health. The gods blessed the couple with a different gift in return. It wasn’t until after the ceremony, after she led Fred to their marriage bed, after they had made love under the stars that she stopped to realize what exactly she had done. The gods watched and blessed their union, yes, but it wouldn’t be enough to save them from their fate.

Three ravens rested above them, cackling at an inside joke that chilled Hermione to ice.  
——————————————————————————————————————————  
The next morning Molly wept when the two of them approached the burrow hand in hand, carrying their knotted cord between them. Hermione had expected this without doubt, was waiting for it to happen. What she wasn’t expecting was for Molly to kick the two of them out altogether. To the woods they returned, where Hermione and Fred built a small cabin out of the fallen trees they collected. Built and insulated with magic, it was warm and cozy. It was where they returned after the monstrosity Bill and Fleur’s wedding turned into. It was where members of the Order came to when they needed patched up. It was where Harry and Ron came night after night to deal with the Horcruxes. Underneath the house they carved a bunker out of the sod itself, glamoured so not even Voldemort himself would be able to find it.

It was a comfortable life, one born of necessity. A grey witch and a light wizard, living together happily. That is, until Hermione felt the quickening. She had put off her missing periods to stress. She had put off the nausea to sickness brought on by tiredness. She had put the fatigue off on the sheer amount of work she was putting into making their home a field hospital until the war was over. She could not put off the quickening. She prayed to Freya and Hecate, and anyone else that would listen that it was not true. That is was just her imagination. When the moon water came back a glowing white, she knew what it meant. Knew just as surely as she knew her firstborn was to be a little girl. Doing the math in her head she knew they only had five months to prepare. 

Those five months flew by. The next thing Hermione knew her waters were breaking and Fred was sending for Madam Pomfrey. She labored on long into the night, walking across the very same clearing her child was conceived in. Every so often she would stop and breath through a pain, allowing herself to lean into Fred’s arms. Luna was to her other side, the only other member to their small coven she wanted with her through this. Any Order members that were not on missions were at the cabin, waiting to hear any news. Her coven waited and prayed for a safe birth. Finally, when the full moon was at its zenith she knew it was time. As many witches throughout the century have done she called out to the gods, crying for safety, crying for life. Eventually her cries merged with another, higher pitched cry. A girl, a little girl, born underneath the full moon. Still, her job was not done. Just as the sun was beginning to rise a third cry joined in the chorus, a son.

As the sun truly rose the same family began their march to their home. Hermione and Rose wearing flower crowns, Fred and Alexander wearing a single small bud woven into the collar of their shirts. They were met with cheers and revelry, their friends, no, their family celebrating a bright spot in the war. They celebrated long into the night, as the new family settled in to their beds.

Four ravens watched as the family fell asleep.   
——————————————————————————————————————————  
When the twins were a month old they had them blessed under the full moon. Luna stood to the right as godmother, George stood to the left as godfather. They swore to the gods above they would guide and protect the twins. Hermione anointed their heads with moon blessed oil scented with rose, carnation, and magnolia. She called forth the powers of Hecate to bless her babes, to keep them safe. To let them make it through this bloody war. 

Still, tonight was not a night to reflect on the atrocities going on in the outside world. Atrocities her husband would have to return to while she stayed behind to tend the ill and wounded. No, tonight was a night to celebrate with her coven, and her friends. Hannah Abbot, Daphne Greengrass, Seamus Finnigan, Neville Longbottom, Isobel MacDougal, Luna Lovegood, Blaise Zabini, and Susan Bones the coven Hermione had grown to cherish. They no longer saw bloodlines or houses as separators, but as assets to the coven. All of them practiced grey magic, and so were outsiders to their peers. They had found a home amongst each other. As the moon shown above them they danced and sang like there was no tomorrow, reveling in the first new lives their coven had produced. Joy, after all, is a delicate thing in dark times. 

If Hermione saw the five ravens swirling above in time to their circle dance, she never mentioned it.

——————————————————————————————————————————  
The snow was falling heavily when the the family’s first Yule came about. The war had officially been raging for a year and six months already. The twins were six months old, and though they couldn’t take part in the ceremonies that their mother’s coven (or what was available of it) were conducting, they could feel the warmth of the Yule log burning cheerily in the hearth. Over the summer and fall their parents had added on to the cabin, turning it more into a house instead of a tiny two room cabin. It was room enough to host an extra four bodies in the family’s living quarters, and the bunker down below had been turned into a field hospital to hide the wounded. The twins loved the hustle and bustle of their lives, getting to see different faces everyday. They especially loved it tonight, for tonight meant lots of people. 

The entirety of the Order (or what was left of it) squished themselves inside for the celebration. They had fought hard these last 18 months, and they had been mostly victorious. They had lost Moody early on, and a few other low foot soldiers. Luckily for them though, the main guard was still mostly in tact. They were worse for wear, but they were alive. Lupin and Tonks has a little boy, scarcely older than Rose and Alexander. Harry and Ron has found all but two of the Horcruxes, mostly thanks to Hermione’s research. Thanks to some of her coven mates they were able to get to those that were stashed behind enemy lines fairly easily. Severus was successfully keeping Hogwarts safe from too many changes, though he did take the opportunity to implement studies on grey and dark magic as well as the light. 

Yes, Hermione was happy as she surveyed the excitement. She had her husband home, her children were safe and growing like weeds, and the Yule log was burning brightly. The chill was kept out of her home quite successfully. Overall life was good. 

Still, she couldn’t help but shiver when she saw six pairs of eyes staring at her from the window.  
——————————————————————————————————————————  
Hermione wasn’t expecting to see Poppy come across her door any time too soon. She was kept too busy when classes were in session. When she came to her crying Hermione could scarcely believe what she was saying. Severus had been mostly able to keep the Carrows under control while they were on Hogwarts grounds. It was testing time though, and he was unable to be everywhere at once. When Poppy was unable to continue, Hermione stepped outside to see Neville carrying a body towards them. Running to what she knew was to be a patient she prayed to any god that would hear the student was alive. When she saw Neville slowly shake his head, she knew. The student wasn’t a patient, they were a body to be dressed. 

Hermione led them down to the bunker, into the side room she normally used to stitch patients back up. This time she would be repairing not broken bones, but broken hearts. She didn’t recognize the student laying on her table, though she could tell by the uniform they were a Ravenclaw girl. Young, younger than any of the students she knew of. She anointed the body with sweet smelling oils, did the best she could to repair the damage. Still, she could not put back eyes where they had been blown out, could not repair flesh that would not knit itself back together. She was only supposed to get the body to where they could bring it to the funeral pyre without scarring the poor girl’s parents more than they already would be. 

Gently she wrapped the body in a white cloth, one that normally covered the beds. It wasn’t the most beautiful funeral shroud she had ever seen, but it was clean. It would do. When her work was finished she called upstairs, and Neville came back down to collect the body. By the time they had came back up the girl’s parents and anyone who was available in the Order was there. 

As the funeral pyre was lit Hermione took note of seven ravens with heads bowed, as if they were mourning along with them.  
——————————————————————————————————————————  
It was just about a month later that Hermione got Fred’s patronus. The Final Battle was commencing, Andromeda would be coming with Teddy to stay with the kids, bring all of your medical supplies with you. Hermione rushed to pack everything she would need. Before she left, before she may never return she took a moment to cuddle her babes. She couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing them again. She also couldn’t allow herself to not help. She knew she would be well protected. She knew as their chief medic she would have a guard on her at all time. Still, she knew what going into battle meant. She had been lucky to stay out of most of the fighting, but she had seen what the battles did to the others.

So, it was a heavy heart that she left to meet her husband on the grounds of Hogwarts. Luckily she got there before the fighting truly begun, and she quickly set up the room of requirement as a field hospital. Harry only had one known Horcrux left to destroy, the snake Nagini. He would succeed. He would. She had to believe he would. Still, she took a moment to tie a bit of string the way her grandmother had taught her so many years ago. With every knot she prayed for safety for her friends, for her coven, for the Order members, for her family, for the students, for the teachers, for Fred, and finally for herself. She knew the gods weren’t so kind that they wouldn’t leave without casualties. Still, she had to try. She had to try with every bit of magic at her disposal. When they brought the first patient to her she treated them with a passion she knew came from above. With every patient she tried to keep them alive, tried to bring them back. Still, she knew when not to waste resources. When they brought Lavender to her mangled and bitten, she knew to dose her with extract of poppy and allow her to go. The disease that was ravaging her body was already too far entrenched. When they brought her Tonks and Lupin she knew Tonks was cold to the world. Lupin though, she could save. The same disease that killed Lavender helped to keep Remus alive. When they brought her Colin Creevey she was able to bring him back from the brink of death. When they brought her Percy she knew the wall that had crumbled atop him as he had pushed Fred out of the way had done him in. There’s only so much damage magic can fix after all. 

When Harry sent for her she went, Luna and Blaise flanking her side. Her coven was lucky. They were still intact. The three of them rushed to the Shrieking Shack as quickly as they could. She carried the dose of antivenin she knew she would need. When they reached Severus they were almost too late. Almost. Hermione managed to keep him alive, to bring him back. Some would say it was wasted magic, Hermione would say it was a just reward. They would never speak of the fact Severus was alive and well. He would never be able to fully speak again, his vocal cords almost torn to shreds by Nagini. She would receive a coded letter once a month from Spain every year until the day he passed peacefully in his sleep. Hermione would never tell a soul what truly happened in that shack that day. 

The eight ravens outside marked that fact.  
——————————————————————————————————————————  
Hermione wasn’t there for the sighting of the next group of birds. No, that task would fall to Narcissa Malfoy. They marked the moment Harry stopped breathing after he walked into those woods to face his fate head on. 

The nine ravens took to the skies the moment he began to breath again.  
——————————————————————————————————————————  
After the battle was done, the side of good had won, Hermione raced to the battlefield. She had a husband to collect after all, and news to deliver about her patients. She was met by hugs, and a giant kiss from Fred. Her coven still remained intact, even as his family was mourning the loss of one of their own. Both Harry and Ron remained alive. She did not know even a fraction of the 57 people listed among the dead, though she knew she had kept her fair share off that list. Still, as their medic, she had another job. She prepared the bodies alongside Poppy, readied them to meet their gods. That evening they mourned beside the funeral pyres, even as her coven clung to each other and her children.

The ten ravens that marked the occasion were the last that Hermione Granger would see for quite some time.  
——————————————————————————————————————————  
So their lives when on. Those that mourned would one day be healed, though scars would remain. Children would be born to her coven, and they would keep the old ways alive as their parents taught them. Traditions would remain, though not quite with the steadfast grip before the war. New witches and wizards would join their small coven. Severus’s curriculum would remain, McGonagal and the council seeing the benefits to teaching about all magic. After all, what is taught is no longer a mystery and not nearly as sought after. 

Hermione Granger opened up a small private practice right next door to their home in the woods. The coven would all eventually move nearby, some in the woods with them and some in the town nearby. They would celebrate many more occasions underneath a full moon. They would tell stories of what happened in those dark times, though they would tell stories of the light too. Most of all they were happy. 

After all, happiness was what the gods had blessed her with the night she was married under the moon so many years ago


End file.
